


Heist

by SkartoArgento



Category: Deus Ex: Mankind Divided
Genre: Biting, Fluff, M/M, PWP, Pritchard dominant, Public (kind of), handjob, jensard, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 09:03:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16741033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkartoArgento/pseuds/SkartoArgento
Summary: Pritchard and Jensen find themselves observing the Palisade Blade, and memories stir up some deeper emotions.





	Heist

**Author's Note:**

> My ratio of Mankind Divided:Human Revolution fics is improving. I prefer MD Jensen to HR Jensen, so hopefully I can even out these fics soon.

 

The Palisade Blade loomed over the river, steel against the night's sky, Prague's blue beacon for the secrets of the elite. The moon rose gradually, perched on its rim, and then, as Adam watched from the bank, sailed slowly higher.

He cleared his throat. “They turned the lights back on.” Even behind his aug eye shields the glow dominated Prague’s skyline. “It was still dark last week - guess they’re done beefing up the security.”

At his side, Pritchard glared at the blade, grey eyes unblinking and electric in the bright glare from the server bank. First time seeing the blade in real life. They both knew the insides a little too well. Too dangerous to go much closer, but the small riverside cobbled courtyard sheltered them from the casual police patrols. “What, more hackable security drones and encryptions that any script kiddie could crack?” Scorn and sarcasm. How he loved and hated them. “I could show them a thing or two about security…”

“They nearly had you last time.” He hesitated, then slid an arm through Pritchard’s. “Would have, if I hadn’t been there. I know you like to make a habit out of forgetting help, but you gotta admit it was a team effort-”

“I wonder who their incompetent security team consists of. At least one hacker, I think – I know Xecute operates from Eastern Europe.” The arm around his squeezed, warm. CASIE directed him to Pritchard’s wide pupils and increased respiratory action. How interesting. He followed that burning glare to the Blade. A shiver of triumph trembled through his stomach. They wouldn't hurt anyone again, not if he could help it. No wonder Pritchard liked looking.

Another squeeze, a little harder, and he tore his eyes from the Blade to Pritchard’s.

“What?”

“What are you smirking at, Jensen?”

“You.” His finger tugged at the hem of Pritchard’s dark hoodie, pulled them closer together. “You want another shot at them. They won’t make the same mistakes twice, remember that.”

Pritchard’s smile, just a peek of teeth, could chill a panther. “A challenge. Even better.”

His chuckle came unexpected, rose above the steady background flow of the river. “Never lost the thrill of the hunt, huh Francis?”

A chest against his, Pritchard’s chin on his shoulder and their bodies pressed together. Warm breath on his neck raised goosebumps on his human skin and sent his augs tingling. The whisper shivered through his ear. “Is there any other way we can be, Jensen?”

“Kinda like where we are right now.”

“Oh, I agree,” the smile came back, feral with promise, “I think this place is perfect.” Hands pressed against his lower back, held him close. He nuzzled behind an ear, encouraged with a gentle nip of teeth. Voices slipped back and forth in the square behind them and in the alleys surrounding the small cobbled area, coarse in Czech, English, or a mix of the two, but none his augs identified as too close, or a threat.

A thread of the cutting wind lifted Pritchard’s hair. Fingers came up to tame it back down. “It’s cold.”

He wasn’t so dense as to miss that hint, and gathered the flaps of his coat around Pritchard, encased them both in their own little intimate bubble.

Wrapped up like this felt like being in bed, the sheets weighing down while they lay against each other. Part of him wanted to drag Pritchard back to his top-floor apartment, take the teasing kisses a little further this time, but another part lay content. The most pleasant experience he'd had for a year, since their first hesitant moment of affection at the Rialto, why ruin the evening so early?

Pritchard's face tucked into his shoulder. A hand, hidden between them and under his coat, pressed against his stomach before making a slow journey further down. A squeeze, and he shuddered, grip tightening around Pritchard. “Francis, don't start something you're not gonna finish.”

No reply, and when he glanced down, Pritchard's eyes had turned to the Blade, reflected blue light segmenting through the grey. The hand didn't stop its steady movements, and he began to stiffen under the warm pressure. “Pritchard!”

Another smirk, inches away from his lips. “Who said I wasn't going to finish, Jensen?”

“Yeah, but here? Anyone could walk past –”

“And what would they see?” Pritchard's purr sent his imagination racing. “Two people huddling together for warmth on a cold night in Prague? You still have that blockheaded cop mentality, I see. Not everyone is as perceptive as you, especially not the public.”

“Yeah, keep underestimating people, see what happens.” But he closed his eyes as the fingers burrowed into the waistband of his pants, stroked the heat they found there. Light pressure. Teasing. His groan vibrated into Pritchard's shoulder. He rolled his hips, but the fingers pulled away, then danced back to stroke underneath, cupped his balls. Warmth flooded under his skin. His breath came in short gasps, torn from his throat.

_Bastard_ , he wanted to say, but the word came out as another moan when a palm wrapped around his erection.

“That's it, Jensen,” Pritchard whispered in a breathless rush against his cheek, “you're not that hard to tame, are you?”

_Fucker_. He nipped at the ear under his mouth, softened his teeth with his lower lip. The hand dragged up, down, and he lost any sense of pride. His arms tightened, pressed Pritchard closer. His panting was shameful – downright fucking obscene – but against the clever twist-rub of that hand he stood no chance of stopping.

Muscles stiffened. Thick growls tangled amongst his panting. “Francis...”

The hand pulled away.

His breath stuttered in shock, even as his cock strained and twitched in search of lost friction. “Don't –”

Pritchard's eyes flicked to their right with a casual warning. Someone shuffled down one of the alleys towards them, grumbling in Czech, footsteps slapping the cobbles.

He let out a tight breath. Pritchard rested against his shoulder, looking for all the world like an innocent man huddled against a lover during a moonlit stroll – aside from the promising press of hips and aroused sheen of steel irises.

A stumble of footsteps, and their new friend staggered into the courtyard.

He watched from the corner of his eye, still hard against Pritchard's thigh. God dammit.

Bottle in hand, the man groaned, swayed, and followed the wall, wobbling. Czech insults were thrown in their direction, too fast and too slurred for him to grab the proper meanings. Asshole was probably trying to avoid the police by taking a shortcut. Not short enough for him.

His cock twitched again. A chuckle against his shoulder, almost too quiet to hear. He gritted his teeth even as he nuzzled into Pritchard's neck. “Think that's funny?”

“Would I be laughing if it wasn't?” The hand not inside his pants ran through his hair, presumptuously familiar, but he rubbed against it all the same. “You can't control yourself, even if you _act_ like you can. So... yes, Jensen. That's funny.”

“That mouth's going to get you in trouble.”

“Not as much as my hand, apparently.” Another teasing brush of fingers. “He's gone, by the way.”

“Maybe we shouldn't –”

Pressure around the tip of his erection, and then a tight fist slowly slid down the length of him, so much like that first full thrust into another body that it startled a moan from between his teeth. The lull brought the pleasure on even stronger, and he rocked his hips up, set a demanding pace into Pritchard's hand.

Lips found his, infinitely more gentle than what was going on below his waist. Not enough for what he needed. His arm hooked around the back of Pritchard's neck, kept them together while he ran a tongue between those lips and licked them open. A moan, not his this time.

His thrusts quickened, encouraged by the tongue sliding against his, hips bucking against that hand. When he broke the kiss, teeth pressed into his throat, hard enough to mark the skin there. They stayed, buried and biting, claiming his neck.

_Fuck, didn't know he could be this dominant –_

And that pulled the trigger.

He let his head fall back, teeth clenched and fingers tightened to fists. Pritchard's hand didn't stop moving, encouraging him with hard strokes. Pressure rose – then burst.

One last hard thrust, and he spilled himself into Pritchard's hand with a loud moan. Heat pulsed from him, and with every wave came a new roll of pleasure. An approving rumble vibrated the skin at his throat.

All too soon, his orgasm faded, and he found himself panting and trembling with his forehead on Pritchard's shoulder. Arms wrapped around his back. Gentle hushing noises pulled at some primal part of his mind, and he relaxed, slowly, let Pritchard support his weight. His arms and legs trembled, emotion stinging his eyes. More than just a physical release. Damn good job he still had his eye shields up.

They stayed like that until Pritchard made a small noise, pulled away slightly and forced him to stand properly. “Sorry, Jensen. You're heavy.”

He took the opportunity to tuck himself back into his pants. Pritchard's gaze was soft, but he avoided it anyway, and rested his chin back on that inviting shoulder. Or would have, if Pritchard hadn't moved away another few inches. “Jensen? Did I... hurt you?”

That startled him out of whatever cloud he currently sat on. “...You? Hurt me?” He managed a smile. Supposed to be a little mocking, but it probably just looked tired.

“I bit you.” Pritchard's face creased with concern. “I... don't know what I was thinking...”

“It's fine.” He couldn't summon up much energy, so he brushed his lips against Pritchard's cheek. If they were back at his apartment he wouldn't stop kissing. “We'll go back. Soon. Just... give me a second.”

A thumb under his jaw pushed at a slight ache there. Bite marks. Another shiver ran through him, but he couldn't manage to hold onto any more arousal.

Pritchard's eyes stayed on his. “You liked it?”

His own gaze strayed downwards. He nodded, just once, and Pritchard released his jaw, but held his wrist instead, gentle this time, other hand smoothing over his coat and brushing away the rumpled look. “We'll go back,” Pritchard said with a nod. “Then you'll show me what else you like.”

His dark metal fingers touched ones still flesh and bone, laced them together.

The courtyard echoed with their footsteps as Pritchard led him away from the river, the blade of Palisade vanishing behind them.


End file.
